


Sober

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Addiction, Blood, Gen, Guilt, Hospitals, gunshot wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: For the fic prompt "I'm too sober for this."Jason gets shot on patrol with Roy and Dick.





	Sober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/gifts).



> I am currently accepting fic requests! Submit a number and your preferred characters [here](https://luthienluinwe.tumblr.com/post/180286877559/drabble-challenge). Look forward to what you all throw at me!

"Nice shot," Hood praised, and Arsenal grinned and turned to face him. It  _ had _ been a pretty damn good shot, straight through the leg, avoiding any major arteries. Their guy was going to have a fun time getting that arrow pulled out of him at the city hospital, that was for sure.

"You're lucky you didn't kill him," Nightwing argued, and not for the first time, Arsenal was starting to regret agreeing to let him tag along with him and Hood. But Kory was off doing whatever the hell it was she did when she wasn't with them, and well, three heads were better than two... Right? Still, he could've used a little more ambiguity, and a little more faith in his aim.

"Lay off, Goldie," Hood said, and Arsenal watched as he hit the catch on his helmet before pulling it off. "If Arsenal wanted this son of a bitch dead, he'd be dead."

"Shouldn't you keep that thing on?" Nightwing cocked an eyebrow, and Arsenal rolled his eyes. They couldn't go ten minutes without arguing about something? "Aren't you always lecturing me and Arsenal about  _ not  _ wearing one?"

Arsenal frowned when he thought he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. Probably just the guy trying to pull the arrow out. Idiot. He'd bleed out before the paramedics got there if he managed to do that. And wouldn't Nightwing just have a field day with that one?

But the motion was too controlled, like he was reaching for something, and Arsenal saw it too late.

The bang echoed in his head, and Arsenal felt his heart drop down to his stomach.

He didn't know who looked more surprise, himself or Nightwing. But it didn't matter. Hood's eyes had grown wide, his face pale, and his hand had instinctively reached up to the gaping hole in the side of his neck.

"Shit," Arsenal swore and ran over to Hood, helping him to the ground. "Shit. Shit. Don't do this, Hood..."

Hood blinked up at him, and Arsenal knew then and there it must have been bad if Hood wasn't saying anything. Nightwing and Hood  _ always  _ had something to say. "Are you going to just stand there and stare?" Arsenal snapped at Nightwing. "Or are you gonna do something?"

"Nightwing to Oracle. Hood's down. It's bad..."

"Please don't do this, Hood," Arsenal whispered. "I swear to God if you live through this, I'll kill you."

Training overrode emotion, and Arsenal dropped to his knees beside Hood, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could. "He's bleeding out, Nightwing," he called over his shoulder and tried to ignore the dark red blood pouring out of the wound.  _ Hit his jugular. Shit. Shit.  _ "Stay awake, Hood. Think you can do that for me?"

Hood nodded weakly, his eyes already dilated, lips already turning blue. Arsenal saw Nightwing drop to Hood's other side and place two fingers on his wrist. "Come on, Jay," he whispered softly. "Don't prove yourself right about the helmet thing."

"Where's the ambulance at?" Arsenal glanced over at Nightwing, who swore under his breath.

"You made me lose count."

"Yeah, well we're about to lose a hell of a lot more than that. Where's that damn ambulance?"

"It's on the way," Nightwing answered before going quiet again.

"Hood?" Arsenal asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice when he saw Hood's eyes roll into the back of his head. "Goddammit, Jay, I told you to stay awake..." No. Stay calm. No sense in panicking. Panicking would make the situation worse. Panicking wouldn't help Hood. "Anything?" he asked Nightwing.

"Barely."

Arsenal nodded and watched as Hood's chest struggled to rise and fall, listened to the sickening wheeze that had slipped into his breathing. "I can't get the bleeding to stop. I can't... I..."

"Arsenal," Nightwing said calmly, and Arsenal wanted to punch him. How could he manage to stay so calm when their  _ best friend  _ was dying in front of them? "Take your shirt off."

"Nightwing, now really isn't the time to..."

"To use it to soak up the blood, idiot," Nightwing's tone went suddenly sharp, and Arsenal felt his blood run cold. Nightwing never lost his cool in the field. He'd long joked that Nightwing was the absolute first person Arsenal wanted in the event of an emergency.

He just wished that emergency had never happened.

He could hear the sirens in the distance as he pulled his shirt off, hissing when the cold night air hit his bare skin.  _ Bigger problems to worry about, Harper,  _ he thought as he balled the fabric up and pressed it up against the side of Hood's neck.

"We're losing him," Nightwing glanced over at him, making eye contact.

The sirens were getting closer, but Hood's breaths were getting shallower and shallower and... "Just a few more minutes, Hood," Arsenal whispered into Hood's ear, hoping to whatever God was out there that Hood could hear him. "Just need you to hold on for a few more minutes."

The paramedics arrived, and Nightwing had to all but pull Arsenal away so they could do their job. "They're a hell of a lot better at this than we are," Nightwing said, and Arsenal just nodded, not knowing what else he could say.

* * *

Roy hated the way hospitals smelled. He always had. Antiseptic and latex and sickness and death. He hated it. All of it. He tried to ignore Dick pacing back and forth in the waiting room. Roy had wanted to go straight to the hospital. Dick had insisted they change out of their uniforms first.  _ Like it makes any difference. _

John Doe, he kept hearing the nurses and doctors say. John Doe. Roy hated it. Hated the way it sounded, hated the way it rolled so easily off their tongues. But how the hell was he supposed to tell them their John Doe was Jason Peter Todd when Jason Peter Todd was legally dead?

"They're talking about him," Dick reminded an hour into their wait. What the hell was taking so long to get that damned bullet out? "That means he's not dead."  _ Yet. _

"I'm too sober for this," Roy muttered without thinking, cursing himself when he saw Dick stop dead in his tracks to face him. "I know that look," he deadpanned. "I'm not gonna do anything."

"You wanna call Croc?" Dick asked, and God, Roy was glad it was Dick there and not Ollie. Ollie would have flipped after that statement.

Roy started to answer when he saw Jason’s doctor talking to the nurse at the station. “Roy?” Dick pressed, and Roy held up a hand to silence him. He watched the doctor’s mouth move, lips forming the words ‘time of death…’ “Roy?” Dick asked again, and Roy shook his head and stood.

“I just.. I need to go make that phone call.”


End file.
